Loving and living hardly feel same
Not that I’d be the one to complain.

Oh, look what’s left
Not me Not she
The smell of flesh
in, deep, slow
the way to breath a cigarette.

a light, a flash
the wonderful flicker
the thought, the love,
a wonder
Not me (not she)
But still in deep (slow)
The way to watch fireworks (explode)

The truth from the deep showed up
Wearing flowing red, Fading green, gray
And a final, solid, heavy black.
It smells of sweet adultery
The kind that cheats you, leaves you
Embodied by, but the shame of simply them.

Sorrow sweet, new life, lonely placid
And a final, stern, nothing feeling.

It’s okay to use words like sometimes
Or refer to the reader as you
Be vague
over use a few words
Write out really
Before every word
Up mix the sentence.

Just say “BACON”
Mention those sizzling curves baby
We’ll succumb to this lust
an all consuming fire
Say Pancakes
Waffles (man, that’s a like)
Orange juice and Coffee
Muffins, Biscuits and Gravy

Say “second breakfast”
and thirds! I’d forgive
all the lame acronyms

Breakfast defies grammar
Voice, and sentence structure
iambic pentameter, adverbs
adnouns, nonsense words
and words.

It’s a taste (a power)
A killer (and life saver)
It’s living times ten
math plus one hundred
Breakfast in bed,
I’d trade for “dead”
Sausage, hash browns
Eggs! Omelets.

There’s just a way
of saying Breakfast
Only one way.
“Extra everything”

The doctors say “Unhealthy”
Otherwise, It’s merely sport or business.
Business risks depression
Sport, a loss.
Love like art
Beauty in ruin.
Know it by our failures
How we always crumble.

It’s love with a straight jacket.
bacon to a stroke.
Love: a cheesy metaphor.
Cheddar.
It’s for the paraplegic.
Love is for the dark corners
no one wants to see.

Don’t resent shapes
lacking the definition
of a perfect circle.
What we talk about
When we talk about geometry.
What they’re wrong on
when we say they say
two plus two equal five.

It’s just the same
when two look straight
touch without words
unoriginal and beautiful.

My song won’t worry
to ask them to read
between the lines.
What they’re looking for
Is the same in every way.

“I thinking we’re falling in love”

Winter must be on its way.

“Things are about to get cold.”

“What?” she said

“Oh, nothing” I replied

She came back
for her clothes
and she was beautiful
but this time only to show
exactly what to miss when she left.

She’s really pretty.

It doesn’t matter who

Or why.

The “really”
needs no specification
no proportion

Simplify the sentence?

She is.

Take mine. Take Love.
Take Take Take Take Take Take

Just like the lake
that can’t, won’t, flow out and
give back to an unending ocean.

The rain weeps in sorrow
and fills the dead sea.

The dying existence of such
As Take Take Take
Never ends with give

Pity the river we once were.
Flowing, loving, and unknowing.

Mom gave me cash
They put her in pink
Dad even winked

Wait it gets worse
They’ll stair outside
from the window to see if we kiss
Valentine’s alone is better than this.

She ordered the garlic bread
So I got her back
I sat in the bathroom
for an hour and a half

Then at the table
She wrote me a poem
“How sweet of you
to smell like freaking poo”
that’s when I puked,
Now she smelled too

This is the kicker
my parents, as they stare
“Let’s just get this over with”
and so I made the move
tripped on my shoe lace .

There goes her nose
(not to mention my face)
but I’m almost pretty sure
I at least made first base.

Days like this make people as me
feel as though the great many things
that have found me to be small, ever so
unnoticed.
They with their ever building weight
Hold a body to the ground just as
links to a chain tied to the bottom
the lowest floor of a sinking boat.

Even with as little love as it has been.
Far more than my soul had ever felt
Underneath my skin
Far less than what I’d need
But more than mine.
My soul, might die for this
As it did, as it will and as it has.